Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop
by GrumpySpaceKitten
Summary: Keith and Lance, unwilling partners for a class project, realize maybe being with each other isn't so bad.


**Based off the song "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg**

"Late enough, Mr. High Maintenance?" Keith asks sardonically when the bell over the door rings and in rushes in his project partner, Lance. He hadn't known the younger student that well before this, they debated in class occasionally, shared a joke in the hallway that only another engineering major would get, but otherwise this was the first time they sat down together and actually speak.

"Hey, hey, a face like this doesn't come naturally." huffs Lance as he sits across from Keith in the cozy coffee shop - a comfortable place really, with a rustic feel that felt so homey one couldn't help but relax and enjoy the oddly familiar atmosphere in an unknown place; something about exposed brick and weathered hardwood with soft acoustic playing in the background just made you relax. He understood why Keith chose this place for their work, it was getting harder and harder for Lance to hold onto the stress and anxiety university brought out of him - and once he had a steaming mug between his hands it would most likely be gone instantly.

Still Keith manages to keep up his caustic expression. "Yeah, whatever. Let's just pretend we both want to get a good grade on this. And maybe if you put as much effort into this as you do your skin then we can."

Lance gives a little _hmph ._ "Just cause you're the best student in class doesn't mean I'm beneath you, mullet."

"I never said it does," he replies flatly as he opens his textbook. "Now I was thinking, the law of the conservation of energy, we want to lose as little energy as possible, just convert it to another kind, which means we need to get as little friction in the design as we possibly can-"

"Hey, if we're playing pretend, can pretend it's still only seven in the morning and I haven't had a good cup of joe yet?" Lance cuts in, earning a long suffering sigh from his partner.

"Yeah, right, fine." Keith mutters as he gets up, pulling a leather wallet from his pocket. After a trip to the front counter, he heavily sets a cup down in front of the younger. "Vanilla macchiato. Now, as I was saying, we want as little friction as possible which means-"

"What? How'd you know?" Keith buying it for him was surprise enough, now he also knew Lance's favorite kind?

Keith nearly groans at yet another interruption. "It's what you bring into class nearly every morning. _Now as I was saying-"_

"You noticed?" Lance blinks.

"Of course I noticed, you're the loudest person in the room, it's hard not to notice." he grounds out. "Can you focus now?"

"Yeah, jeez, hard ass. Your mullet is deceiving, you know. There's no party in you, not front or back."

"It's not a mu- whatever. Lubrication is necessary to reduce friction but anything we use is going to- What?!" he snaps when Lance makes a face.

"You didn't put any sugar in it. And it's hot." he almost pouts, sticking out his blistered tongue.

"So put some damn sugar in it!" Keith nearly shouts, frustration mounting quickly. His head drops onto the table after Lance goes to the condiment stand. "God, just my luck."

* * *

Lance gives an impressively long groan as holds his head in his hands. "We've been studying forever, can't we take a break?" he whines, though all he gets in return is a steely glare.

"We have a deadline, you know, and a lot of work to do in the meantime." the older replies, focused intently on the textbook in front of him. Lance is definitely a talker, and Keith is doing his best to just grin and bear it.

"Ugh, come on, man. Five minutes won't kill us-"

"Lance,"

"Don't be a stick in the mud, mullet. I'm gonna be in class all day; let's relax for a bit now."

 _" Lance,"_

"Come on, we barely know a thing about each other. Where you from?"

"Houston. It will need a fan or coolant of some kind."

"Not gonna ask where I'm from?"

Keith glances up then sighs at the absolute pout Lance is wearing. "Fine. Where are you from?"

"Great question!" he beams. "Well, my family is from Cuba but I grew up in Argentina-"

"Are you going to tell me your whole life story?" asks Keith in a flat tone.

"Yup!" is the bright reply. "You're not gonna ask so I'll just go ahead and tell you."

Keith closes his book with a sigh, papers tucked into it to keep his place. His eyes glass over at first when Lance delves into the tale of him and his ridiculously large family, but soon Keith finds himself actually listening, asking questions, laughing along. Somewhere along the line, listening to Lance's dramatic storytelling actually becomes enjoyable and Keith can't think of anything else he would rather be doing.

"...Yeah, and then we found out I tore my ACL pretty severely, so there went my soccer scholarship." Lance concludes as he finishes the last few drops of his cold coffee.

"You know, most people don't go from soccer to mechanical engineering." he comments blithely.

"It's kinda what my dad did," the younger shrugs. "I was already familiar with it, so why not? And it's been pretty fun so far. Until I had to be paired up with you, mullet."

Keith gives a bitch face in response to the teasing, yet oddly enough he still feels light hearted, not as bothered by the mockery as he normally would be. "Speaking of which, we should probably be heading to class. With your luck, this will be the one day the professor takes attendance; not to mention I'm pretty sure your misfortune will rub off on me if I stay around you for too long at one time."

"Rude, but you're right - lead the way, _amigo._ "

* * *

"Come on, can't you aim straight!" Lance laughs. He and Keith are seated at the table they basically own now; Lance's elbows rest on the laminate top, his outstretched thumbs meeting at the tips while his index fingers point to the ceiling as Keith tries to flick a paper triangle between the makeshift goal. As of yet, he's managed to get their improve football basically everywhere except the goal.

"Watch it, McClain, I might just decide your eye is the target next." the older huffs after he fetches the triangle off the floor, lining it up once again.

"Ooh, bad boy showing his true colors now? Maybe that would be more scary if you could actually aim." Lance taunts with a shit eating grin.

"There's no weight to it!" Keith huffs. He flicks the paper hard, more to release frustration than to actually try for a goal. It flies between Lance's fingers; he groans loudly as Lance laughs "Finally! One point!" The one time he put no effort into it! "Give me a knife, I'll have no problem. Hell, I'd leave you in the dust if this was a shooting competition."

"Is that a challenge, mullet?" cockily hums Lance. "If so, I accept and we can test our mettle this Saturday because I got lucky and only have to work the morning shift."

Keith blinks, taken aback. The most they hung out was like this - in the antique coffee shop that was mostly only frequented by hipsters and nostalgic elders - or right before class. They never went out of their way to make plans together. "Uh…"

"Scared?"

He scoffs. "Of you? Yeah, right. I'll meet you here after work. Bring your A game, pretty boy, let's at least pretend this is an even match."

Lance's eyes light up and Keith can't help but smile in return. Obviously he had expected to be shot down. "You talk big, Texas. Better be ready to use that gigantic mouth of yours to buy me dinner when I cream your ass. And none of that Wendy's shit, we're having roundhouse steaks."

"You mean when _I_ win, you'll be paying for a sushi buffet for us."

"In your dreams, Kogane."

"Looks like I got a fairy godmother this weekend, cause my dreams will be coming true." Keith smirks across the table. "Now put your hands back up, I'm not leaving here with just one point."

* * *

The sky on the other side of the lightly tinted windows was bright and cloudless, life seeming unusually merry outside the coffee shop, but when Lance comes in he looks as glum as a rained out parade. Keith sits up straighter, already frowning. "Lance, is something wrong?" he asks as the other student takes a seat. He doesn't answer the question, just pulls out his notebook and puts it on the table.

"I think we need to redesign the chassis," his voice is unusually thin.

"Lance,"

"We can't focus all of our attention on the function, it needs to look good, too."

"Hey, man, come on-"

"No one wants an ugly machine sitting around-"

 _"Lance."_ he breaks in again, firmly. "What's wrong? You look like shit. Are you feeling okay?"

Lance sighs, scrubbing his face. "We have work to do-" he stops and looks up when Keith places a hand on his forearm.

"Lance, if something is wrong, you can tell me."

Apparently the earnesty in his voice is enough to draw Lance out. He sighs, looking down at the table. "My… My little sister was taken to the hospital last night. They don't know what's wrong, but… She's not in great condition right now."

He makes a small noise of surprise when Keith gets up and pulls him into a tight embrace. Keith doesn't have siblings and his parents passed away when he was pretty young, leaving him to bounce around from foster home to foster home. He can't really imagine what it feels like to lose someone you've grown up with, but he does know Lance is hurting and he wants that to stop as soon as possible - he would do anything to fix this if he could, just to make Lance smile again. "I'm here for you, man." he mumbles quietly, feeling the hug slowly returned. "I-I can't really say everything is going to be fine, but I'll be here for you no matter what happens."

Swallowing hard, Lance nods. "Thanks, man." he whispers into the comforting embrace.

* * *

It took longer than Keith would have liked, but a few weeks later and they're sitting in the same coffee shop, at the round table by the floor to ceiling windows, drawing up blueprints. "My main concern is maintenance." he says as Lance sharpens his white pencil. "It should be mostly self maintaining but in the event of an actual problem it shouldn't be overly difficult for the user to go in and fix."

"We've compacted it so much that really only a professional could go in it, unless we bulk it out a bit."

Keith frowns at the dilemma. "Obviously we don't need a bunch of negative space, but we also want it to be something that even the layman could use. What?" he asks with a frown when he catches Lance staring at him with narrowed eyes.

The younger's face immediately turns a vibrant shade of red as he leans back in his chair, scratching at the nape of his neck. "It's nothing- uh, well… I was gonna go to a concert tonight but my friend cancelled on me, and I- well, I can't go by myself obviously, what if I get roofied…" he trails off, glancing quickly back at Keith then to the worn floors.

"So… You want me to… What? Be your wingman tonight?"

"Hey, wingman works."

He sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. He can't let Lance go by himself, not in good conscience, and this seems important to his partner so Keith can't blow him off without feeling a little guilty. "What band?" he eventually asks.

Lance's entire face lights up and he sits straighter in his chair. "Bruno Mars." he says, excitement making him nearly bounce. "Oh, it'll be great, you'll have an awesome time. Muffins on me." he gets out in a single breath, his grin ear to ear as he rushes up to the front counter.

Watching him go, Keith groans. Bruno Mars? Really? But… He couldn't say no now, that would be like kicking a puppy. He isn't cruel. And Lance is so excited. He groans louder. None of his wardrobe would even begin to fit in at a Bruno Mars concert; and a hoard of preppy blonde fans all sipping strawberry daiquiris because they "can't even." Then again seeing Lance so enthusiastic and thrilled about this - he looked like he was ready to start bouncing off the walls with elation - makes Keith's chest flutter pleasantly.

Ah, whatever, he might as well go; not like he has anything better to do on a Sunday night.

* * *

"You look like hell."

Keith shoots a glare at the laugh as he sinks into his usual seat even though he knows it's entirely true. He spent the morning throwing up and chugging Gatorade - God, he hadn't been this hungover in a while, and to think it happened at a fucking Bruno Mars concert of all things. He gives Lance a scathing look when a glass of water and painkillers are slid over to him; Lance may be wearing his usual cheeky grin but he looks like he's popped a few pills just to get out of bed too.

"Easy there, princess, it's just Advil so you don't die during the teach's lecture."

He gives a noncommittal grunt but takes the offered medicine anyways. His head is throbbing and he feels like death incarnate, but worse than his condition now is the memories from last night. Lance was a self proclaimed Bruno fan ("What? I love the Mars man!") but it seemed what he liked more than the music was the bunch of girls who attended the shows. The only reason Keith pounded back so many drinks was because he realized he really, really didn't enjoy watching Lance hit on any cute girls who looked open to it. Watching it made him taste bile and the only way to wash out the acidic flavor was with a good hard hit of spiced rum.

"Now, for the presentation next week, since I have all the charisma and charm of our little Dynamic Duo, will give the opening, get everyone's attention, wow the audience, while you can give detail on the finer points and give us a strong conclusion."

"Yeah, do whatever you want." mutters Keith. At this point he's just ready for the project to be done so he can go back to sitting in the corner by himself again, so Lance isn't calling him over to meet his friends when they pass in the halls, to get his weekends back instead of having them filled with Lance showing him dumb memes during their study breaks. He was changed because of this experience, and he wanted his old self back now.

Lance blinks and turns to him. "Whatever I want? It's not like you to give me full control of the situation."

"Let's just get this finished."

"We're not even half way done."

"I've already done most of the work for you, can't you finish it yourself?" he snaps, irked.

"Most of the work? I've helped a lot too." Lance defends. "Are you upset or something?"

Keith sits up as his mood contrasts and dips even further. Yeah, he is upset but there's nothing to be angry over. God, emotions were too much. "No, I'm fine. And yeah, I have done most of the work while you've been on your phone drooling over models."

This makes Lance prickle considerably, a deep scowl coming over his features. "I've done tons of work! Who do you think picks up the slack for you while you're off being a loner?"

"The only one dragging ass is you." the older snarls. "What you call being a loner, I call _studying_ . " he says it slowly with over emphasis. "I don't know that you've ever heard of it."

"Dude, what the hell is your problem?" Lance barks, his own temper rising rapidly. "I don't care if you're on your fucking period, you're being a dick."

"My problem?" Keith gets to his feet so quickly his chair teeters dangerously, slamming his palms down on the table. "My fucking problem is that I'm fucking into you and you made me come watch you hump anything with a pair of tits!" he shouts, loud enough there's almost an echo in the small space.

The entire coffee shop is staring at them now, but all that matters is Lance's wide eyed, blown away surprise. He gets up, mouth hanging open. "Wait, Keith- what do you m-"

"Forget it. Leave me alone." Like the emo Pidge accuses him of being, Keith storms out, all angst and thunderclouds. Logic tells him he'll have to see Lance again, their project is worth over a quarter of their final grade after all, but right now instinct tells him to go back to his apartment and play Overwatch in his boxers until his eyes bleed.

Stupid street, stupid coffee, stupid professor, stupid assignment, stupid feelings, stupid _Lance_. He just had to go and bring out all these dumb ass emotions. Keith was fine on his own, he had no problem with it. People could talk behind his back and mock him but it would never bother him; they didn't know him, no one did. He would always be this enigma sitting in the back of the class with astounding grades, studying his ass off in the library while all the frat boys talked up the parties they were planning. He was this untouchable island that no one dare explore, except for _fucking Lance_ . And _of course_ it just had to be the lady's man of the class, a boy filled with wit and humor, outgoing without a thought for what fun people might make of him, who found joy in everything he did. The kind of guy who could be the welcome rays of sunshine in Keith's maelstrom.

Goddamn it he wants to scream, to hit something, to cry. Anything, everything! All of it is too much and he just wants it gone and out.

But it doesn't leave, not even when he's kicked back in his gaming chair with a few beers in his system and nothing on but underwear. It constricts his chest like a fat python, suffocating every other coherent thought out of him, leaving him with Lance as his only salvation.

* * *

Hood up, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his mood as ominous as black storm clouds, Keith heads into the coffee shop before class. He knew he should probably go somewhere else, if he had any brains he would, but Monster doesn't do it for him and nowhere else has a roast he likes as much as the coffee here - that is why it's his usual spot after all. His glare dares any over-friendly stranger to try to exchange pleasantries with him; two hours of sleep after countless hours of video games, along with the day before, doesn't have him in a good mood.

He says as few words to the barista as he possibly can; he pulls out his phone as his coffee is prepared, only to shove it back in his pocket with a scowl when he hears a shout of "Keith!" after the bell dings. He acts as if he didn't hear it, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him on the exposed brick.

Lance stands guard at the door as Keith adds cinnamon and milk to his drink, stirring it before he adjusts his hood again and heads for the exit. He attempts to muscle past Lance but the younger grabs his arm with surprising strength. "What?" he eventually snaps, venom dripping from the word as he shrugs the hand off. "What the fuck do you want? I've got a class to get to."

Obnoxiously unperturbed by the his churlishness, Lance fixes him with a level stare. "You know, it's pretty damn rude to run off after telling someone you like them; what if they had something to say back to you?"

"I have class." Keith mutters back irritably.

"Okay, you're in a hurry, got it, I won't waste time with words." Lance pushes his hood off before pressing their lips together, his hand cradling the nape of his neck. Keith's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he almost drops his coffee out of sheer surprise. Okay, maybe he wasn't the only one of them who spent the past few weeks pining. After repressing himself for so long, letting himself melt into the kiss was the most heavenly thing he'd ever felt. His palm cups Lance's cheek as they pull away slowly.

Already the younger has his shit eating grin in place. "Hey, Texas, you should have told me you were so good at kissing, I would have put you to the test sooner."

Keith's cheeks heat up as he smiles lightly, mood lifted far out of the gutter now. "I didn't think it would be a fair match. Now, come on, lame ass, I do have a class to make."

* * *

"Took you long enough to get here." Keith laughs from their table when Lance finally walks in the door. Both are dressed up for the evening, Keith wearing a black iron ring on his right hand - a gift from his ever thoughtful, goofy fiancé.

"You know, you could have just met me back home after classes instead of making me come all the way down here." Lance gripes without an ounce of weight behind the complaint.

Keith simply shrugs. "Call me sentimental. I got you coffee, vanilla macchiato, might be cold by now though." He offers the cup and Lance takes it, sipping the indeed cold coffee. Somehow it still makes him feel warm inside. Then again, being with Keith usually has that effect on him.

They lace their hands together after the older stands, close together as they walk down the street. "Oh, hey, have you heard back from that weapon producer yet?" Lance asks - not to fill silence, even silence between them is welcome.

Keith shakes his head. "Not yet, but they said they liked my designs so I'm pretty hopeful. It would be nice to have a job right after graduation, but it might not turn out that way." He shrugs, leaning his cheek against Lance's shoulder. "Not that it really matters; I'll be with you either way."

* * *

Lance watches the scenes from his memories fade away, a fond, longing smile on his lips. He plays with the black iron ring hanging on a chain around his neck, vanilla macchiato in his hand. He can almost hear their laughter from the table by the window as he sips his coffee. If only he had known his time with Keith would have been so short - maybe he would have laughed a little longer, smiled easier, whispered sweeter word, loved even fuller. Maybe, possibly, if he had just known, he would have hugged Keith tighter that day, kept him longer, maybe that accident never would have happened-

He blinks away tears, wiping one that slips down his cheek. If he had known what would blossom between them he would have introduced himself to the darkly dressed boy in the corner sooner. Now, without his husband, this coffee shop gives him even more comfort. He felt like Keith's spirit lingers here, replaying their memories just as he does. And, oh, how this makes him love this old coffee shop so much.


End file.
